Compatible
by ThoseLeftBehind
Summary: When something is found in the ruins of Godric's Hollow, it turns one dour potions master's world upside-down. Will he learn to cope with his new found responsibility or will he fail altogether? A Severus-guardianship-Harry story. Not a Severitus.


_A/N: Fun, fun disclaimers. I am not J.K. Rowling nor will I ever be. I only like to fantasize. =) I quickly edited this, I can't say I got all the errors out or all the descriptions I wanted right, but it's good enough. Now I know the idea of a Severus-raises-Harry story is quite over played. But I think I've developed a storyline that is original. I can't promise prompt updates, but I'll try my best and stick with this as much as possible. Thanks for reading and enjoy Compatible_

_~Thoseleftbehind~_

* * *

Little Whining was not the place to look for diversity. Oh, there were different sorts of personalities, sounds, and smells, no doubt about that. But the neighborhoods were all identical. Same houses lined in a row, same doors on every threshold, same layout of gardens same environment. Lives of the people weren't much different either, very routine, quiet, content. But the residents of one particular house, at least in their eyes, had taken a turn for the worst. Finances were fine, no one was sick, and no one was missing. So what? House number 4, Privet Drive - the ex-perfect Dursley household. On the outside, the three members made for a happy family. Vernon Dursley, a father with a ...slight weight problem. Yes, slight. At least he called it slight. Besides, weight was a sign of wealth in the old days, why not now? Anything that bragged, no, screamed wealth and Vernon embraced it. His wife, Petunia, was, physically, opposite of her obese husband. Long face and hard eyes, Petunia was known to make one's life as hell like as possibly imaginable, if she wasn't on  
good terms with you. But, at least she wasn't that...

Lastly, Dudley. Body, mind, and spirit like his father, but with the fears and bitter bite of his mother. Dudley was a bit of a brute. In front of his parents, an angel. With his friends, a bully.

However, the Dursleys considered themselves perfect...that is until he came. Darkening the doorstep those seven years ago, when Dudley had only been a year old. When that doorbell rung at that god-forsaken hour, Vernon figured it was one of two things. The police asking about some runaway or an emergency with his sister, Marge. What was completely unexpected was what he did find. At first when he opened the door, he saw nothing. Angry that some brat dare pull a prank on Vernon Dursley, before slamming the door in disgust, a cry broke him temporary out of his rage. His small eyes travelled down to the bundle of blankets, with only a single note written in Slytherin green on top. The envelope was addressed to him. Hesitantly, he picked up the bundle and letter and carried it inside. The bundle squirmed and Vernon nearly dropped it. Crossing the hall to the kitchen, he placed the monster(he deemed it) on the table like it was just a package. Petunia had now entered the room. Upon seeing the baby on her table, she gasped and looked over at Vernon. The portly man's beady eyes scanned the letter before wordlessly handing it to his wife. As if is would explode, Petunia took it with the utmost caution.

_Dear Mr. Vernon Dursley,_

_ I am so sorry I couldn't do this in person, but I hadn't the time. Please, let me introduce myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and among titles that I shan't bother you with. I regret to inform you that your sister-in-law, Lily Evans Potter, and her husband James are no longer in the land of the living. They were murdered by an evil wizard, Voldemort. It is quite unfortunate and the Potters will be deeply missed. However, there is a happy note to this sad tale. Your nephew, Harry, I believe he is about the same age as your own son - he has miraculously survived the attack. Not only this, but the evil wizard is now dead and there is no longer a threat to your nephew. This child needs a happy home and I believe, if I recall from my earlier days, that Petunia loved her sister. I hope that you will love Harry like a son. Raise as you see fit, but I make one humble request. Please - when he is old enough to comprehend, tell him his parents loved him. I take my leave and wish you the happiest of days. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Albus Dumbledore -_

Her mouth was dry. Lily. Her favored sister, her pretty sister, her FREAK sister. Dead. Not only her, but her good for nothing freak of a husband too. Only a pang of sadness hit her for the girl she once called sister. Then a growing joy blossomed in her chest. It soon consumed her whole being. No more did Lily hold the spot light. No more would LIly be a reminder of that... Vernon watched his wife's lips curl into a twisted smile. "Pet? What are we to do with this?" he asked disgustedly, jabbing a round finger at the boy on his table. Petunia's eyes gazed over to her nephew on the table. Such a small child, an innocent child, and no doubt a freak child. Her bubble of happiness burst. Well, one freak gone and another takes its place. While Lily was gone and wouldn't remind Petunia of a world that she couldn't be a part of, there was the child, who would more than likely be just like her... Petunia shook her head before turning to meet the gaze of her husband. "What else, dear? Of course we should...take him..." No warmth could be found in the voice nor the eyes of Petunia Evans Dursley. Vernon silently eyed his nephew with similar distain....

So there it was. Ruined. Absolutely trashed. That ungrateful cretin-a constant reminder of what the Dursleys _**really could **_have been. Said creature was now eight and polishing the kitchen floor. It was only fair he would earn his keep. Petunia sat in the living room with her tea, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. Her beloved Dudders was out with his friends and Vernon was working and all was almost right with the world. But before she could give anymore thought to her near perfect world, a cry of pain erupted from the kitchen. "Aun' Petunia!" She rolled her eyes. What did he want now? Couldn't he of done without disturbing her peace and solitude? Slowly, she stood up to check on her forced responsibility.

The boy had been scrubbing diligently. Recently, the chore list had been becoming quire cumbersome for the young child, however - if he wanted to eat and stay and not become a homeless 'freak'. He sighed before briefly stopping to look at his handy work. Only two tiles done and he'd been at it how long?! The list of undoable chores lay on the table and the boy felt as if he would cry. No, no, couldn't cry. He'd only be rewarded with a sore bum and no dinner IF he was lucky.

Not once had he felt love or the reassurance that he was worth something. Of course the teachers at school said he was valued by his family- What did they know?! Just once, he would have liked to be hugged like he saw Dudley hugged everyday. He envied him, the toys, the food, and above all the love and warmth that seemed to ooze out of Dudley's parents for their son, if only the boy...shaking that thought away, He went back to work. His real name was almost never used. It was always boy, freak, or worst of all 'It'. Once in school, he had said his name in school was 'It'. The teacher thought he was being cheeky and punished him. But what was worse was said teacher reporting to Uncle Vernon. Worst beating of his life. He wasn't abused everyday by his so called family, but a couple of times Uncle Vernon would lose his temper..., lost in memories, he didn't realize that he was scrubbing so hard with the polish. Before he knew it, his fingers slipped and sliced open. It stung, oh how it hurt. Forgetting he wasn't a welcomed member of the family he called his aunt's name, then regretted it immediately.

The long faced woman came into the room to see the boy nurse a bloody hand to his chest. The blood was dripping and some smeared on her nice cleanish floor. Anger building inside her, she grabbed the urchin by the collar of his shirt, violently opened the door under the stairs and threw her nephew inside. Not before she snarled - "Just wait until Vernon gets home!"

Cupboard door slammed, he began to silently weep. The little bits of light that seeped into the storage space lit the little piece of paper taped under a stair. Watery eyes drawn to it, he read - 'hAry's rOm.' Harry... his name was Harry....


End file.
